


Sweet Creature

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Soulmates AU, Tumblr Prompts, a teeny bit of gendrya, and angsty angst, basically these idiots being idiots, jonsa, lots of pining, mostly sansa tbh, over the course of a few years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 03:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11222601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Soulmate AU: Jon and Sansa spanning the years, as they come to terms with being soulmates.





	Sweet Creature

**Author's Note:**

> from the colour au prompt on tumblr. 
> 
> (can request prompts @ jonsasnow if you so wish or just come say hello)

Ever since Sansa learned about soulmates, she’d been fantasising about the day she would meet hers and see the matching soul mark. She used to stay up, duvet pulled over her head, and draw images of herself with some unknown figure. Sometimes he’d be tall, sometimes he’d be short, but no matter who she imagined in the place of her soulmate, he would always be a knight and herself a princess in a tower. As she got older, her fantasies involved more daring feats with dragons he’d have to slay or evil witches he’d have to outsmart. It never mattered what stood in his way because he always overcame it. He was her soulmate after all. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be valiant, charming and honourable. 

Like a prince, a young Sansa would muse to her mother, or anyone who would listen. 

“He’ll have blonde hair,” Sansa decided when she was seven. She followed Robb out to the back garden. “All princes have blonde hair, right?” Her brother shrugged. “I bet he’ll be so handsome.” 

“How do you know he’ll be handsome?” Robb finally asked after trying for some time to ignore her.

Sansa scoffed. “Of _course_ he’s going to be handsome. He’s my soulmate.” 

Her brother rolled his eyes, but it didn’t stop Sansa from believing it. 

At twelve, Sansa was forced to reconsider everything she had ever thought about soulmates the moment she actually _met_ her soulmate. She didn’t know it was him at first. There was no blinding flash of light as he stepped into the room; no singing angels in the background when he first said hello to her; and definitely _no_ spark between them. 

In fact, Jon Snow had become her least favourite friend of Robb’s within ten minutes of meeting him. He didn’t smile when he greeted her, he barely even looked at her, and then to make matters worse, he had the audacity to snort when she brought up the topic of soulmates.

“ _What_?” Sansa snapped, begrudgingly meeting Jon’s dull, boring grey eyes. “You don’t believe in soulmates or something?”

“No, they’re stupid,” he said, meeting her speculative gaze head on. Even though he was the quietest one of Robb’s friends, he had defiance in his stance, in the way his shoulders pulled back to make him appear taller than he was. She likened it to a cat bristling its tail. 

Robb and Arya laughed loudly, which only angered her more, because they’ve both mocked her for her steadfast obsession with soulmates. Sansa placed her hands on her hips. “How can you _say_ that? Soulmates are romantic!”

“It’s forcing two people to be together,” Jon said, not matching her anger with his own. He was practically impassive as he spoke to her. God, she wanted to hit him. 

“It’s not _forcing_ , it’s destiny!” 

Jon chuckled, shrugging. “Same thing, isn’t it?” 

When she finally realised he was her soulmate, it was some weeks later at the Starks’ annual summer barbecue. She was feeling particularly confident in her new pink and white striped bikini, proudly showing off the intricate lines of her soul mark at the base of her neck. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, a rarity for Scottish weather, and all of her friends were here. It was a perfect day. 

But her good mood abruptly came to a halt when she walked past Robb and his group of friends and overheard their conversation.

“Dude, why do you have a tattoo of a snowflake on your chest?” 

“That’s not a tattoo, you pillock, that’s a soul mark.” 

“Oh. Wait, your soul mark is a snowflake? That’s a bit lame, isn’t it?” 

“Fuck off, Theon.” 

“What?” her brother shouted. “Your soul mark is a _snowflake_?” 

At this point, Sansa’s heart was ramming painfully in her chest. She couldn’t believe it. After everything she had imagined about her soulmate, it had to be with someone who didn’t even believe in it? Jon wasn’t even _blonde_. He was lanky with muddy brown hair and boring grey eyes. That was the opposite of what princes looked like. 

Before she could think about what she was doing, Sansa ran over to her brother and punched him hard in the shoulder to shut him up. “Robb,” she said breathily, feeling her panic rise and rise up her throat. “Mum _needs_ you!”

He glared at her, groaning and rubbing his shoulder, but he knew. Out out of all of her siblings, Robb could read her the best and she didn’t need to say any more. He would even cut Jon out of his circle of friends if it was what she wanted, but what kind of person would she be if she let him do that? Sansa grabbed his forearm and nodded infinitesimally. Her brother sighed and walked off, despite probably knowing their mum hadn’t called for him at all. 

Now alone with Robb’s friends, Sansa turned and found Jon staring at her with wide eyes. She flushed under his gaze. That was great; now he knew too. She pulled her bun loose and let her hair cover the soul mark as subtly as she could. Thankfully, Theon, Edd and Sam had already moved onto a new topic, but Jon was still staring resolutely at her, like he was trying to figure something out. Well, she didn’t need him to figure her out. 

“ _What?_ ” she snapped, hoping the familiarity of being annoyed with him will ground her from the realisation that this stupid, gangly boy before her was her soulmate. 

“I, uh… Nothing,” Jon mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

It surprised her to feel her neck tingle as if he was running his fingers along her soul mark there. She swallowed tightly and leveled a glare at him, one that she hoped he would be able to interpret as ‘ _do not tell anyone about this_ ’, before stalking off. 

On her fifteenth birthday, Sansa was completely over soulmates. She didn’t need some stupid mark to dictate who she’d end up with, not when there were boys like Joffrey Baratheon, who _were_ blonde, charming and valiant. He made her feel special and loved; he was everything that Jon wasn’t and she had to admit that was kind of the appeal of him. Where Joffrey was talkative and outgoing, Jon only seemed to get broodier with age and more solemn. Didn’t he know that girls didn’t want to date someone like that? Least of all Sansa? 

Well, at least the feeling was mutual. By the way that Jon actively avoided her, he was as determined as her to forget that they were soulmates. And maybe sometimes it stung a bit because he was such good friends with all of her family, but Sansa wasn’t going to let that get to her., She was not going to care or even spare a thought for him. Jon may share the same soul mark as her, but he was _not_ her soulmate. 

Maybe Joffrey could be. 

“Have you seen my boyfriend?” Sansa asked Jeyne, still feeling a little thrill at being able to call him that. 

“No, but check the kitchen. I heard him asking Margaery where the drinks were.” 

“Okay, thanks,” she said, squeezing her best friend’s shoulder as she passed her by on the way to the kitchen. 

The Starks’ kitchen was a beautiful work of art. Granite countertops, mahogany wood, and state-of-the-art appliances occupied the room. Her mum had slaved away for months and months designing it herself, and since she helped a little, Sansa was quite proud of it too. It had been fun to imagine cooking wonderful, mouth-watering dishes in a room she was helping create. Only in all of her imaginations, Sansa had never expected to see her boyfriend and her friend snogging up against the stainless steel refrigerator she picked out. 

They were unaware of her presence and she wanted so desperately to scream and shout, but Sansa stood frozen in the doorway, one hand braced against the wooden frame, while the other fisted in her pale pink dress. In that moment, she wished she could borrow Arya’s ferocity for one second and punch Joffrey in the face, but Sansa wasn’t that girl. She had never been that girl. Instead, she was the type to stand dumbly by as she continued to watch her boyfriend kiss another girl. 

The backdoor to the kitchen abruptly slammed open. Jon stood there with his fingers running through his rain-soaked hair, but he froze as soon as he caught sight of Joffrey and Margaery, and then Sansa. For a long second, no one did anything. Tense silence expanded to every nook and cranny, until without warning, everything was in motion. Jon slammed his fist into Joffrey’s nose, while Margaery screamed, jumping away. Joffrey tried to push back, but the lanky blonde had nothing on Jon’s superior strength. The boy wasn’t captain of the football team for nothing.

“Sansa, do something! He’s gonna kill him!” Margaery pleaded, tugging on Sansa’s dress. 

She shrugged, finding her voice to be calm and steady when she felt so far from it. “Why should I care? He’s not _my_ boyfriend anymore.” 

When her ex-friend whimpered and pleaded some more, Sansa sighed and walked over to Jon to place a hand on his shoulder. He immediately stilled. He searched her face, watching her carefully – maybe to make sure she was okay or maybe to silently ask if she didn’t want to punch the tosser herself. Eventually, Jon stepped away, but he only moved so he could circle an arm around Sansa’s waist. She tried to ignore the shot of electricity that raced up her spine from the contact. Now was not the time to think on stupid things like that. 

“C’mon, Sans, let’s get out of here,” he murmured to her. “Leave him.” 

Sansa nodded, but before she allowed Jon to steer her away, she bent over so she was face to face with Joffrey. “Clean this up and then get out of my house. Take your new girlfriend with you, and if you ever try to talk to me again, I’ll tell my brother what happened tonight.” 

The blonde paled. Jon may have stood up in her defence tonight, but Robb was the one all of the boys at school were frightened of. It wasn’t that her brother was stronger than Jon, he was simply far more reckless and far less inhibited in how he dealt with anyone who hurt his family. For once, she was glad for that reputation. 

At seventeen, Sansa still didn’t believe in soulmates. After Joffrey, she met Harry, and when that ended in disaster too, she decided to stop believing in relationships altogether. They were messy and painful and _not_ worth her time. The knights and princes of her past had been shattered by the reality that chivalrous and honourable boys did not exist. 

Besides, her _actual_ soulmate had gone off to university, and last she heard, Jon had a girlfriend, so clearly he was over it as well. Not that she cared but she couldn’t help wondering about his new girlfriend. In all the years Sansa had known Jon, he’s never really been with anyone, at least never seriously enough to call them his girlfriend. Sansa sincerely hoped she never had to meet her. It was an awful thing to think, and Jon could have as many girlfriends as he wanted, but she didn’t want to meet any of them. 

The night before Christmas, Sansa was in the den by herself reading Wuthering Heights for her English A Levels. If she wasn’t going to have a real soulmate, then she was going to have a real job with real influence. She was going to be a teacher.

At a quarter to one in the morning, she heard the creak of a door open and someone attempting to walk silently through the house to the kitchen, which was just past the den. Sansa smiled to herself. “I didn’t realise Santa was a nineteen-year-old boy.” 

“ _Jesus_ , shit!” he exclaimed. There was a clatter of some kind of object falling to the ground, before he then appeared at the threshold, his dark curls all mussed up from sleep. “You scared the crap out of me, Sansa. What are you doing up?” 

She raised her book towards him. “Reading.”

Jon nodded and then smirked. “Aren’t you a little old to be waiting up for Santa?” 

“Aren’t _you_ a little old to be dressed like one?” she asked, arching her brow and gesturing towards his Santa-printed pyjamas and full beard. 

He flushed, pink colouring his cheeks and neck. It was sweet. “It was a gag gift from Theon, but it’s surprisingly soft.” 

“And the beard?” 

“Left over from Movember,” Jon said, shrugging. He walked over to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from her and grabbed her book despite her protests. “Please tell me you’re reading Wuthering Heights for school.” 

She was, but she scoffed anyways. “What’s wrong with Wuthering Heights?” 

“Everything’s wrong with it,” Jon said, bewildered. “It gives the complete wrong idea about soulmates; you know that, right? They were so bad for each other.” 

Sansa giggled, and she nudged him with her fuzzy sock-clad foot. “I didn’t realise you were so passionate about Heathcliffe and Catherine’s relationship, Jon. What are your opinions on Elizabeth and Mr Darcy? How about Jane and Mr Rochester?” 

“Oh, shut up,” he said, but he was smiling, so that was a win in her books. “I had to read it for school too, and all the girls in my class were mooning over Heathcliffe. It was scary. If that’s what people think soulmates should be like then…” He glanced at her and flushed again. “It’s just dumb.” 

“Well, for once, I agree with you,” Sansa said, grabbing her book back. “But I think people like the idea of being passionately in love with someone. That’s why people want a soulmate. Being in love and being loved? That’s not a bad thing to want.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked gently, but Sansa was staring resolutely at the glass coffee table in front of her instead of at him.

She shrugged. “Maybe once, but not anymore. It’s not worth all the other stuff.”

“Hey,” Jon said, taking her hand in his. “Is it because of what Joffrey did? Because he’s a prick, you know? Not all guys cheat on their –” 

“It’s not just him,” she interrupted, finally meeting his eyes. “It’s us too. We’re supposed to be soulmates, Jon, but it’s not exactly like we’re compatible…” She sighed, trying to feign nonchalance, even though this was the first time either of them had brought up their soul marks. “So I don’t know. I guess you were right. It’s all just pointless.” 

He pulled his hand back, and for some reason, that hurt more than if he had just agreed with her and said she was the last person he’d ever want to date. He might as well have, she thought. It wasn’t as if she was clambering to date him or anything, but was she not even an option? 

As the silence drew on, Sansa started to become more and more irritable. “If you’re not going to say anything then you should just go. I have a lot of reading left to do and –” 

This time, it was Jon who interrupted her, and as his lips pressed insistently against hers, Sansa wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer, until he was lying flushed on top of her. It was everything and nothing like how she imagined her first kiss with her soulmate to be. There were no exploding fireworks; no instantaneous magical connection, but there _was_ heat and lust and desperation. It was as if the longer they kissed, the more she needed him near. Her hand roamed through his hair, feeling the softness of his curls and tugging just to hear him moan against her lips. The sound sent a pool of desire to the pit of her stomach and Sansa shifted so she could tangle her legs in between his. 

“Sansa,” he breathed against her neck. “We should stop.” 

She murmured her acquiescence by nipping at his lower lip, to which he groaned and swiped his tongue along the hollow of her neck in retaliation. Sansa didn’t even try to hide the mewl of pleasure that that elicited out of her.

But just as Jon was beginning to kiss a trail across her collarbone, nosing away the loose jumper, something horrible occurred to Sansa and she shove him away with a hard push.

“Ow, what the hell?”

“You have a girlfriend!” she seethed. “How could you do that to her! How could you do that to _me_! I can’t –” 

“We broke up in October, Sansa,” Jon interrupted, as he furrowed his brows. 

“ _Oh_ ,” and just like that all of the indignation and anger whittled away, and soon she was pulling nim back to her, kissing him as desperately and heatedly as she was before. 

Sleeping with Jon was challenging to do when he lived in Edinburgh for most of the year, but it was easy to convince her parents to let her visit on the pretence of going to see her big brother. It was also easy to convince Robb to take her out clubbing at night, only for Jon and her to sneak back to the flat before any of them could return. 

In fact, aside from the distance, everything between them was easy. They fit together in a way she never thought was possible with anyone else, but they were both adamant on keeping whatever they had going a secret. It was too complicated to involve anyone else. For one, Sansa didn’t even know what they were doing. And two, she wasn’t totally convinced they would work as a couple. Even though when he wasn’t near, when she couldn’t feel him skin to skin, Sansa felt empty, hollowed out like a trough. He was like a drug she couldn’t quit, which terrified her so much she refused to talk about the nature of their _whatever_ with him. 

So of course when she turned nineteen, Jon was there, and with Jon being Jon, he had to bring it up as soon as they found themselves alone in a dark corner of the bar. 

“I was going to wait to give you your present later tonight, but Robb is in a bit of a state after his breakup with Aileen, so he’s probably going to get really needy and I won’t be able to sneak away,” Jon told her with a sigh, pressing his forehead against her bare shoulder. The small gesture was so familiar to them now, but her skin still warmed under the contact. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, gently running her fingers through his hair. Sansa kissed his temple. “It’s okay, Jon. I get it. He’s my brother, remember?”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he replied, chuckling against her. He lifted his head back up, and now facing her, she could see his cheeks were mottled pink. “It’s… Don’t laugh, okay?” He pulled out a silver link bracelet with one single circular charm dangling off of it. Carved onto the charm were rolling hills and a towering tree, looking as if it was blowing in the wind. It was beautiful.

“It’s supposed to be a part of Yorkshire where Wuthering Heights was set. I know we both hate Heathcliffe and Catherine, but… I don’t know. It’s pretty, right?” he asked, nervous and so unsure. 

Her heart clenched tightly in her chest, and suddenly, what they were doing felt all too real for her. “Jon,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze from the charm. “This is too much. I can’t…” 

“Can’t what?” he said warily when she didn’t finish the sentence. “What can’t you do, Sansa? Accept this birthday gift or accept us?” 

“There is no us,” Sansa said, as she removed her arms from around him. “We’re not in a relationship. We’re just –” 

“Fooling around?” Jon snapped, dark eyes narrowing at her. 

She was momentarily transfixed as she stared back. When did his dull grey turn into a clear storm? When did she allow herself to be swept up in him? 

“That’s what we’ve been doing for over a year? Just fooling around?”

Sansa sighed, turning away. “Yes. What do you want me to say?” She pushed him back and tried to get past, but he grabbed a hold of her wrist to keep her there. “Jon, _don’t_.” 

“What are you so bloody afraid of, Sansa?”

“Nothing!” she lied. She was afraid of everything. She was afraid of losing herself in another person; finding that when this all turned to ash, Jon would’ve taken a big piece of who she was with him, and then what? What would she be left with? Joffrey and Harry may have broken her trust in relationships, but Jon could break _her_. 

“I just don’t want a relationship right now. You know this. You _knew_ this going in,” Sansa continued, feeling her heart break in her chest anyway, but being unable to stop herself from pushing him away. 

“You don’t want a relationship,” he repeated slowly, dropping her hand. “Or you don’t want a relationship with me? I remember how disappointed you looked when you realised I was your soulmate. I guess I’m just not good enough, right?” 

She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him he was an asshole and that he had no idea what he was talking about, but he then shoved the bracelet in her hand and that shut her right up. 

“I bought it for you, so keep it, sell it, throw it away – I don’t care anymore. I’m done.” 

Without waiting for a response, Jon was gone, disappearing into the throng of partygoers.

Despite having adamantly refused to go to Robb’s New Year’s Eve party for the past two years, her brother was not going to let her get away with not attending this year. He said he would blackmail her if he had to, which didn’t really intimidate her considering Sansa had more on Robb than he had on her. But when he offered to help her move all of her things from London to Edinburgh if she only attended the party, Sansa agreed instantly. She didn’t want to drive that kind of distance on her own. It would have been the longest journey of her life, and Sansa had once hitchhiked to Morocco with Jeyne for charity in her first year at university. 

Still, now that she was two minutes away from Robb’s flat, she wondered whether her brother’s help on the drive up would be worth it. It wasn’t as if Sansa hated parties, but everything from Christmas to her birthday to New Year’s Eve drained her. It had been tainted a long time ago.

Sighing, Sansa thanked her Lyft driver and exited the car as gracefully as she could in the tiny burgundy minidress Jeyne had picked out for her. It would’ve been better if her best friend could’ve accompanied her, but unfortunately, she was spending the evening with her new boyfriend (and recently found soulmate) instead. What a traitor. 

“Sassy pants!” someone called from down the street. Sansa turned to see her little sister running over to her in tight black jeans, a dark red vest top and six-inch heeled boots. She was still (adorably) shorter than Sansa. “I didn’t think Robb would actually get you to come.” 

“Yeah, he bribed me,” Sansa smiled, hugging her little sister. They’d been like cats and dogs all throughout their childhood and teenage years, but now at twenty-one and nineteen, Arya was one of her favourite people in the world. It still caught her by surprise sometimes how close she was with her sister. If someone had told sixteen-year-old Sansa that, she would’ve scoffed and said they were liars. Back then, it was more likely for Sansa to bite Arya than confide in her about anything, but now, alongside Jeyne and Robb, Arya was one of the first people she’d go to for advice. 

She turned to her sister’s boyfriend and hugged him too. “Hi Gendry, you looking forward to this as much as I am?” 

The bulky boy laughed. “You know me, life of the party.” 

“Oh, shut up you two,” Arya snorted. “You’re acting like we’re luring you in for the slaughter.” 

Well, it wasn’t quite that dramatic, but Sansa really would’ve preferred a quiet night in with a book and a bottle of wine. But she did promise Robb, so she plastered on a smile and walked up to the third floor flat with Arya and Gendry in tow, both of whom were arguing heatedly about some thing that happened the other week on some show Sansa didn’t watch. 

The door was already wide open when they reached the flat and the three of them quickly separated – with Arya beelining for the loos and Gendry trailing behind her, as Sansa headed towards the drinks table. The moment she had a drink in her hand, she was immediately pulled into a conversation with a stranger. 

“Shit, you’re Robb’s little sister!” 

“Uh, yeah,” Sansa smiled tightly. This was why she hated these nights. “I’m Sansa.” 

“David,” he greeted, shaking her hand. “Wow, you’re even fitter in person.” 

She reeled in her desire to kick him and smiled. “Thanks.” 

“I played rugby with your brother at uni,” he boasted, leaning in none-too-subtly. “I was a flanker. I still play on the weekend, but I work at…” 

Even if Sansa had been listening to begin with, all noise stuttered to a stop when she saw him. He stood to the side of the room, a can of beer in hand, as he laughed at something someone was saying. Sansa hadn’t seen him in two years, not since that night so long ago now, and it was like seeing a ghost, a remnant of something that once was that no longer existed. 

His hair was longer, pulled at the nape of his neck in a bun, and he seemed bigger somehow, stronger, steadier. There was a new scar along his left temple and Sansa itched to trace the silver line. They had ended so fast she never got to map him out. She never got the chance to memorise every inch of his body, to commit his laughter to memory, to kiss him one last time, to – 

God, it shouldn’t matter. It had been _two_ years. He left the bloody country to get away from her. Whatever they were, soulmates or otherwise, it wasn’t enough. 

“And so that’s how I’m now working at the Wall Street Journal,” David finished. 

“Huh?” Sansa glanced back at him, heart still racing from having just seen Jon, and tried to smile as genuinely as she could. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad for you.” 

“Thank you, it’s pretty awesome,” he said. “Robb mentioned you’re about to graduate?” 

“Um, yeah, I’m in my last year of…” 

A girl with fiery red hair walked up to Jon and pulled his face down with her hands, smacking a kiss onto his lips. Everyone around them hooted and hollered, and Jon rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he wrapped one arm around the girl, smiling fondly at her. 

And just like that, one stupid kiss that shouldn’t have even affected her anymore was enough to steal the breath right out of her lungs. Sansa could feel the tears prickling her eyes, her chest heaving with indescribable pain.

“I have to…” Sansa stammered, before she quickly pushed through the crowd to get to Robb’s bedroom. She slipped inside, thankful that no one else was there, and crawled under his duvet. Sansa pressed her face into his pillow to muffle the sobs that wracked her body. 

It’d been two years. Sansa had dated other boys in that time. She expected Jon to move on too, but seeing him with her, seeing his lips on someone else’s even after all this time, made all of those old wounds resurface, splitting through her skin and letting fresh blood spill over the ripped seams. 

This time, Sansa let it. She didn’t want to cover her pain away anymore. She didn’t deserve to because she’d had everything and she threw it all away. 

Sansa didn’t know how long she stayed in the room, but it was long enough for her brother to ring her thirteen times before she finally forced herself back out into the fray. Her makeup was mostly gone now after having to clean up the wet smudges. At least she didn’t look like she’d been crying.

“There you are!” Robb shouted loudly, causing several eyes to turn to her. She would normally flush under the sudden scrutiny, but it was hard to care what strangers thought of her. Not right now. “I thought you went home!” 

“I was just taking a little breather in your room,” Sansa admitted, smiling at her brother, as he crushed her in a tight embrace. “Having fun, Robb?” 

“The _best_ time,” he nodded, swaying slightly into her. “Oh hey Jon! Mate, come here!” 

As if tonight could get any worse, Sansa thought miserably, turning around and keeping her smile in place, even if Jon’s proximity was making her heart crumble all over again. 

“Sansa,” he exhaled, eyes wide. “I… You’re _here_.” 

“Yeah, I had to bribe her,” Robb snorted. “Bloody cheeky bint she is.” He pinched her hip and Sansa yelped, swatting at her brother. 

“Right,” Jon nodded, ignoring the play-fight now occurring between the two siblings. “You live in London.” 

The sudden ire she heard in his tone made Sansa narrow her eyes. “Yes, I do. I didn’t realise that was brand new information.” 

“So you live here but you’ve just been avoiding these parties, huh?” he replied, his jaw clenching, ignoring what she had said.

She knew what he was implying and it infuriated her that he would have the audacity to play the victim like this. “Not all of us can escape to another country to avoid Robb’s parties.” 

“I –” 

“Hey!” Robb interjected, too drunk to be aware of the rising tension between his sister and his best friend. “My parties are _not_ that bad. You take it back, Sassy Pants!” 

“No, of course not,” Sansa sighed, patting her brother on the back. “Your parties are amazing.” 

Placated, Robb continued to berate them about meeting his soulmate, Jeyne Westerling, and after promising to come over the following weekend to meet her, Sansa was finally able to make her escape. She didn’t spare a glance for Jon, too afraid of what she might do if she spent any more time in his presence, and ran for the door. It was twenty to midnight now and soon the whole of Britain would erupt in raucous cheers and laughter. Sansa was okay with being alone. She moved to London to get away from her family and away from memories of Jon. Being alone was now simply part of her nature. 

It was okay; she would be okay. 

A couple of months after the New Year’s Eve party, Sansa woke up to the sound of banging against her door. She begrudgingly dragged herself out of bed and went to peer through the peephole, groaning when she realised who it was.

“Robb, what the hell are you doing here?” Sansa asked, as she let him stumble on through. She could _smell_ the whiskey on his breath. It made her stomach turn in protest. “God, did you drink an entire bargain booze?” 

Her brother snorted and kicked off his shoes, flopping down onto her sofa. “Listen, this is not a friendly house call. I’m mad at you, but the room is spinning so I’m just going to lie here for a second first.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes. It wasn’t actually that uncommon for one of her siblings to appear drunk in front of her flat. She lived in a very convenient location in London with a flatmate who went home for the weekend more often than not. They most definitely took advantage of that on a near-weekly basis. 

“Here, drink this,” she said, thrusting a glass of water at him. Robb graciously downed the entire thing before slamming it down onto her coffee table. “Robb, you’ll break it!” 

“Like you broke my best friend’s heart?” he snapped.

She inhaled sharply, all the air stinging her lungs in one whoosh. “What?”

“Jon got hammered tonight and told me what happened,” Robb continued, oblivious to her sudden discomfort. “How could you do that to him, Sans?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m your brother. I’ll always be on your side, but this – shit, I don’t think I can.” Robb rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since he arrived, she noticed how distressed he looked. 

“Robb, don’t. I don’t want to talk about this,” Sansa said angrily. This was the last thing she ever wanted to talk about with her brother, especially not after witnessing Jon with another girl only a couple months ago. Everything was still too raw. 

“No, we have to!” he shouted. “You don’t get it. You didn’t see him after it all went down. I was there, Sansa. I was there when he just…” Her brother shook his head. “Why did you push him away like that? He’s your soulmate. When I found Jeyne, it was like the world had finally righted itself. I couldn’t imagine going a day without her once I had her.”

“Because what if it wasn’t enough?” Sansa shouted back. “What if _I_ wasn’t enough?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Do you have any idea how it feels to have two of your boyfriends cheat on you?” she asked quietly, sitting as far away from Robb as possible. “I know they were pricks, but it’s hard not to think maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just not good enough.” 

“Sans, you know that’s not true.” 

“I guess,” she said, looking anywhere but at Robb. It’d always been hard for her to be vulnerable, even around her family. So much of her life had been about holding her emotions in check, making sure that naive, stupid little girl never resurfaced again. But a part of that girl still lived and she still believed her big brother was capable of fixing the world. 

Sansa tucked her feet in underneath her. “I didn’t want that to happen with Jon. I was scared he was going to realise I wasn’t worth it either. I don’t think I could come back from that.”

“Sans, I love you,” Robb said, coming to perch on the arm of her chair. “But you’re delusional if you think Jon could ever think you weren’t the fucking sun.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “I didn’t know what was happening at the time, but when you two broke up, or whatever the hell that was, Jon just fell apart. I’ve never seen him so defeated. And this is the dude that singlehandedly put himself through school and uni after his mum died.” 

Instead of feeling relief or joy, Sansa felt only heartache. She remembered the day his mum died, remembered the way he had smiled at her, eyes empty and hollow, like he wasn’t even there anymore. 

“He loves you, Sansa,” her brother continued. “He always has.” 

She leaned her head against Robb. “It’s too late though. He has a girlfriend now.” 

“What?” 

“I saw him, Robb,” she explained. “The girl at your party? I saw them kiss.” 

Confusion danced on Robb’s face before understanding and then amusement replaced it. “Ygritte? Shit, that was – she’s his ex-girlfriend. It was some stupid dare. They’ve been broken up for over a year.” 

“Oh…”

Sansa graduated on a hot summer’s day. The robes didn’t help with the heat and her carefully curled hair was sticking to the nape of her neck. It wasn’t a good look, but she was so happy to be done with her degree that nothing mattered. Sansa had her family, all of whom were bickering and shouting over where to take photographs, and it was perfect. 

“I say we take the photos in front of the cathedral. It’s the prettiest!” 

“No, we should take it over there. Better landscape view!” 

“Let’s just take it so we can go!” 

“Shut up, Rickon. No one asked.” 

“Arya!” 

“Sorry, mum…” 

As they continued to bicker, Sansa decided to wander back to the auditorium where her graduation had taken place to check if any of her friends were still around. They were going to meet later that night for a well-deserved celebratory hoorah, but Sansa just wanted to double-check on the time they were supposed to go out. 

Inside, several families were still milling about, taking photos and chatting amongst each other, but she didn’t recognise any of them. Her friends must have already left. Unlike her family, they weren’t hanging about arguing over photographs. Sansa weaved easily through the dispersed crowd of people till she reached the far top of the auditorium. She stood there for a moment to take in the sight of this place. Its oval mouth was furnished with dark wood panelling, overhead lights casted the room in a soft amber glow, and gilded torches were fastened on either side of the room. It was a beautiful place, filled with memories of watching student-led productions and guest lecturers. 

Three years had come and gone, and now Sansa was a fully qualified teacher. It was bizarre and surreal, but welcomed. She was ready to move on to a new chapter in her life. 

“I didn’t expect you to invite me.” 

Startled, Sansa jumped back, hand clutching the fabric above her heart. “Oh my god.” 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, looking unfairly handsome in a fitted white dress shirt and black trousers. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” 

“It’s okay,” she replied, as she willed her heart to behave itself. “I’m glad you came.” 

“Yeah… why _am_ I here?” 

“I wanted all the important people in my life to be here today,” Sansa answered. “And you’re important to me.” 

The look of bewilderment on his face made her nerves tremble with fear. But Sansa had to push on. She’d waited long enough for this; she wouldn’t allow her own insecurities to pull her back any longer. 

“It doesn’t always seem like it, I know,” she continued on before he could speak. “I haven’t really been a good friend to you over the years, but you’ve always been important to me, Jon. That never changed.” 

His face softened, and he sighed. “You know you’re important to me too.” 

Sansa smiled and allowed herself to relish in his words for a long second. “I owe you an explanation. About what happened.” 

“It’s in the past, Sansa. We can just let it stay there,” Jon shook his head, pain twisting his features in a way that made her chest tighten. Did she do that to him? Had she hurt him that badly? 

“No, you deserve to know,” she said firmly. “What happened between us was… It was…” Sansa inhaled deeply, trying to force the words out, but she couldn’t find the right phrasing to really encapsulate what that time meant to her. “How I felt about you terrified me. I didn’t just want you; I _needed_ you. And I was so scared, so _convinced_ that you’d figure out sooner or later that I wasn’t worth it. I didn’t think I could’ve survived that… So I pushed you away before you could push me away. It’s dumb and stupid and horrible and mean, and I’m _so_ sorry, Jon.”

It was hard to read him. His face betrayed no emotions and he had grown up since Sansa last spoke to him. Jon was different. He wasn’t the same boy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago, and maybe he was right. Maybe the past was meant to stay in the past, but her neck tingled, as if her soul mark was humming at finally being reunited with its mate, and Sansa had to try. She had to make him understand that no matter what, he would always be it for her. 

“I’ve spent nearly _three_ years trying to forget you,” Jon finally said. “I moved across the world to to try to put you out of my mind. I even thought I was in love once.”

“I know it’s stupid of me to tell you this now, but I had to. I just needed you to know,” she said, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. 

“No, Sansa, you don’t get it,” he sighed. “I _tried_. I tried so fucking hard, but it didn’t matter because I couldn’t stop comparing every girl I met to you. I couldn’t stop wanting you even with miles in between us.”

“Jon?”

“And maybe it’s our soul marks telling us we’re supposed to be together,” Jon snorted at that. “All I know is that I’ve been in love with you for five years. That’s never going to stop.” He brushed her hair back behind her ear, his thumb trailing over her cheek. “But I can’t do this with you if you’re just going to run again, Sans. I can’t.” 

Sansa leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss to his wrist. “I don’t want to lose you again. I love you too and I’m never running, not unless you’re running with me.” 

“Thank god,” Jon laughed, muffling her own giggles with his lips. 

If there ever was a sensation of coming home, it was being in his arms, surrounded by the scent of him. He wasn’t her soulmate because a silly little mark told her he was; he was her soulmate because he made her feel safe, loved, cherished and complete. He was the person she wanted to be around every second of every day, and this time, she wasn’t going to ever let go. 


End file.
